I really need to cut back on true crime.
“You were right about the body.”
I bob my head, sucking in my cheeks. What do I even say?
Duh? Obviously? Told you so?
Mature, Alyssa.
“I’m sorry to hear that. The last thing I wanted was for her to be dead.”
He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. It makes a popping sound when he releases it.
“From what I’ve heard, it sounds like it was a brutal end for her,” I say, hoping he’ll share any details that might help me uncover more from my visions.
“I’m not at liberty to share any details of the case.”
I huff, falling back into the couch. “Why? I shared information with you.”
He rolls his tongue, appearing to consider his next words.
“I swore an oath when I took this position, and it’s not somethingI take lightly. My job depends on my protection of confidential information and the details of the case.”
There’s nothing rude about his explanation. If anything, I get the sense that he wants to convey that if he could share with me, he would.
“Being bludgeoned in the head would be a rather horrific death. Especially since the guy didn’t kill her right away.”
He tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes on me. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I shrug. “We’re not at liberty to discuss the case.”
He fidgets, turning the can in his hands. “I’ve upset you.”
“You haven’t. You have your duties and I have mine.”
Nick sits back, arms propped up on the chair, eyes trained on the ceiling. “Listen, Alyssa, I’m a man of few words for good reason. My dad always said, ‘If you don’t speak, you don’t say stupid shit.’ ” His head dips and our eyes connect. “It stuck with me. But sometimes, I forget that sage advice and say stupid shit anyway.”
I can’t help it—I laugh. I’m not sure if that was his intention, but based on the mischievous grin he’s aiming my way, he totally meant to break the tension.
Well played, sir.
“Is that why you’ve never said more than two words to me?”
“I talked to you,” he says, looking surprised by my accusation.
I smile, recalling the few times we did talk. It was never anything more thanHiorHow’s it going. He would barely make eye contact with me. I’m glad those days appear to be over.
“You talked to Garrett. Not me.”
He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed in on the ratty couch. “What was there to say? Garrett and I had guy stuff to talk about. You and me...” His words trail off.
“Guy stuff?” I chuckle.
“You know what I mean.” He goes silent for several seconds, picking at something on his jeans. “Let me repeat, if you don’t speak, you don’t say stupid shit. I was comfortable with Garrett.”
“And you weren’t with me.”
He shrugs. “It’s not exactly that.”
